Passion and "Glee"

Okay, I have a confession to make. I'm just a little bit obsessed with the new Fox musical, "Glee."

And I've only seen the pilot.

I've been hooked on musical theater since my first Broadway show when I was 10. My parents took me and my brother to see "A Chorus Line." If I'd had any talent for the stage or music, I would've been one of those kids, like the ones in "Glee," involved in drama club, the school musical and local theater. My brother was blessed with a singing voice and acting ability. Me, not so much. More like none at all.

My talent lies in my writing, something I've been passionately pursuing for years. I'm finally beginning to think maybe I'm not half bad at it.

But watching "Glee" (which I've downloaded to my iPod so I can watch whenever I want, yes I'm that much of a geek), what caught me, hook, line and sinker was Jayma May's response to Matthew Morrison's decision to leave the teaching job he loved for the better-paying corporate wasteland because he needs to provide for his family.

"But provide what, exactly?" she said. "The understanding that money is the most important thing or the idea that the only life worth living is one you're really passionate about."

I have two kids and a husband and a mortgage and bills and aging parents. I'm lucky that my husband has a job and I'm able to pursue my passion.

Do I wish I made more money? Hell, yes. Would I trade it for a job I hated but paid me more? Only if my children were starving. They're not. They have clothes and a home and parents who love them. And even if I had to take another job to support my family, I'd still write. I'd have to. It's my passion.

So when Lea Michele (who I saw in "Spring Awakening" a few years ago, awesome show), Cory Monteith and the rest of the "Glee" club nail Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" at the end of the pilot, I became the most passionate supporter of the show. And anxiously await it's debut in the fall.

Which I'll watch after I get my pages written.

The Ticking Clock

About this time of year, my jaw starts to hurt. I know it's coming and I know what causes it but I can't really do anything about the aching pain that sometimes radiates into my neck.

It's caused by the imminent end of school and the arrival of garden season, which ratchets up my other job to almost full-time status. My jaw starts to ache because I'm grinding my teeth at the sense that I'm falling behind. Pages aren't getting written because I've got other commitments, other responsibilities that I must complete. And, with teenagers in the house--playing music, on the computer, watching TV, hell, just sitting in a room--it's harder to concentrate.

I can write anywhere. When the boys were younger, I'd take the laptop to the pool and soccer and baseball practice. Now, I take it with me to karate and bass lessons. But when my kids are in school all day, I have eight hours of uninterrupted silence that translates into pure writing bliss.

Then summer comes and I'm facing weekly deadlines for work along with self-imposed deadlines for my writing. Along with my aching jaw and sore neck. Why do I stress myself? Because if I don't, I won't attain my ultimate goal--writing fiction full time.

We're lucky that my husband has a full-time job but I need to work. Just as we depend on my garden writing income, we also depend on my royalty checks from EC. But writing isn't just a job for me. I love to write. If I haven't written a few pages, thought about writing, edited my own or someone else's work or read a book, my day isn't complete.

But I'm also Mom. My guys will be going to college in a few short years, leaving home and living their own lives. Contrary to what they may think, I dread that day. I love how they come home from school and head for my office to tell me about their day. I love going to concerts with them, watching karate practice, listening to bass lessons, taking them to movies and watching our favorite shows on TV.

I try not to wish the summer away but when I leave the house at 8:30 a.m. to see two or three gardens, return for a few hours to make phone calls, do interviews and write features, shuttle to karate or bass lesssons and maybe see another garden that night, those blessedly quiet eight hours during the school day seem like Nirvana.

So, I will do what I do every year. I put my head down and bulldoze my way through. I get really good at budgeting time during the summer, something I don't do well any other time of the year. I learn to shut out the noise, the chatter and the music. I learn to take a few minutes from my schedule to talk to my kids then reimmerse myself in my work. My days become a race against a ticking clock.

Some days I win. I get my pages written, see a few gardens, write a feature, do an interview and manage to make dinner, all before karate. Some days...well, some days, there's no pages or no dinner. Some days, there's none of either.

But I probably did get to stop and smell the flowers.

Live Long J.J.

Just a warning: Spoilers for the new "Star Trek" film ahead.

I am a life-long Star Trek fan. I remember being 5 years old sitting in front of a TV with my grandmother's neighbor in Florida. Jack was a stoner before they'd coined the term, a beach bum who was the best babysitter I ever had, not only because he was smart, funny and laidback, but because he started me on a lifelong journey into space, the final frontier.

Every afternoon, we'd watch "Star Trek," and those episodes shaped my view of the world. I grew up believing that eventually humans would unite and travel into outer space, that we'd discover new life and new civilizations. That we would boldly go where no one (yes, I'm going with Jean-Luc) has gone before.

My favorite episodes include "Shore Leave," "Miri," "City on the Edge of Forever" and "Amok Time." I particularly love the episodes involving time travel, like "City on the Edge of Forever," "Tomorrow Is Yesterday" and "All Our Yesterdays," because of their rule-bending and mind-bending qualities. (I love "Lost" for the same reason.)

My absolute favorite episode of any "Trek" series is "Next Gen's" "Yesterday's Enterprise." The way the writers made the time-travel aspect believable and in the process brought back one of my favorite characters sealed the deal.

Friday, I saw J.J. Abrams' "Star Trek" reboot. I didn't know much about the plot because I wanted to watch the film without someone else's ideas in my head. Good choice. It allowed me to fall in love all over again with Kirk and Spock without a reviewer telling me why. And when I went again Monday afternoon, it confirmed my feelings.

Chris Pine has the requisite bravado for Kirk but it's the resolution in his eyes that drew me to him, the complete willingness to give over to the character. Shatner never had that. He was all bluster and horndog glee, the twinkle in his eye a knowing wink at the audience that this was all a big game.

Which is probably why Leonard Nimoy's Spock resonated more. He was Spock. He lived and played a man of two worlds who, over the course of his career, I think, finally grew comfortable living in those worlds: human and Vulcan, real life and film career. Zachary Quinto is the perfect choice to play his younger self. He adds more human to his Spock. You see the raw passion seething under the icy exterior at all times. I like it. Call me crazy.

I love Karl Urban as Bones, though no one will ever replace DeForest Kelly. Maybe in a few years, Urban will grow into the irascible doctor's shoes but for now he's still second best. That's not a bad place to be. Simon Pegg's Scotty adds the irreverent edge missing from Pine's Kirk, and Anton Yelchin's Chekov and John Cho's Sulu are going to be fun characters to get to know again.

One disappointment, the lack of screen time for Zoe Saldana's Uhuru. As a child, I didn't realize how much of a leap it was for some to grasp the concept of a black woman in that role. I only knew I wanted to see more of her and Nurse Chappel, the only woman able to stand up to Bones. I'm hoping both get ample screen time next time around.

Because I'm sure there will be a next time around. The inventive way screenwriters Robert Orci and Alex Kurtzman have found to wipe clean Trek's history gives the audience the chance to see the characters develop in a whole new direction while keeping their core characteristics in place.

Finally, I don't think the film would have been as fresh or exciting without JJ Abrams. His ability to infuse a light touch in a dark moment and instill heartbreak in fast-paced action is a gift as is his willingness to screw with a legend and do it in such a major way. I love how the film melds old and new until it become something wholly different yet still recognizable.

But next time, JJ, I want to see Greg Grunberg.

SEDUCED BY DANGER Release Day!

SEDUCED BY DANGER

A man will do just about anything for love—even kill. Four down, one to go. Michael Corsi is on the trail of the last man who made life a living hell for his lover. But first, he wants one last reminder of what he’s fighting for. He needs to see his woman and his son before he goes up against his toughest foe. And probably to his death.

Michael is the father of the son Cara never expected to have. The man who brought her a love she never expected to feel, and a passion that she can’t—won’t—live without. She’ll do whatever it takes to be sure Michael returns to her—even it means tying him to her very soul.

EXCERPT:

Vaffanculo, he hurt everywhere.

Cara shifted in the chair and opened her eyes, immediately searching for his. When she saw his were open, her mouth started to tremble and he knew she was about to cry.

"Cara.” Damn, his voice was shot, nothing more than a broken whisper. It even hurt to speak.

She shot out of the chair to lay her fingers across his lips. “Don’t try to talk. You’re still so weak. Damn you, Michael. You nearly died. Actually, you did die. How do you feel? Oh, wait. Don’t answer that. I can see you feel like shit. But knowing you, you won’t admit it anyway.”

He frowned and his face actually hurt. “I died?”

“Yes, you stupid man, you did.” Cara brushed her fingers under eyes, wiping away tears. He wanted to do it for her but he didn’t think he could move without causing massive pain throughout his body. “Damn it, I swore I wasn’t going to cry.”

And if she did, he’d probably pass out from pain trying to comfort her. “Then don’t. Tell me what happened. Cara—”

“Oh no.” She waved one finger in front of his face. “Don’t you ‘Cara’ me like that. Damn you, Michael, I am so pissed at you.”

His eyebrows flew up. That didn’t sound anything like the woman he’d lived with for two years before he’d left her in the care of her sister Lacey and Sal. When he’d left to hunt down a list of five men.

That woman had never raised her voice. She’d been easily startled, wept at the drop of a hat and never got angry.

This woman was pissed.

She stood next to the bed with her hands on her hips, her mouth pursed and angry little vees between her eyes.

She looked…beautiful. So gorgeous he wanted to grab her and kiss her. Which wasn’t at all like him.

Even when they’d been together, he’d kept himself apart. He’d given her his body, his desire, his protection. He’d given her everything she could physically need. But he’d never let her see just how much he needed her. How much he cared for her. For her or Aron.

Because if he had, if he’d opened his heart to her, he never would have been able to leave.
And it was his job, his duty, to make the world safe for her and Aron.

He took a breath before he spoke again. “And you have good reason to be angry with me.” He paused to breathe through the painful muscle spasms in his chest. “But could you please tell me what happened…last night?”

“No, it wasn’t last night. It was two,” she held up her middle and index fingers and thrust them close to his face, “nights ago. And you were dead, Michael. Your heart stopped. You weren’t breathing. If Sal and… if Sal hadn’t come, you would have been lost to me forever.”

“Sal saved me?”

Her mouth twisted into another frown. “Not directly, no.”

He moved his arms to try to sit up again, this time anticipating the pain and forcing his way through it. He managed to prop himself up just a little father on the pillows so he wasn’t flat on his back. By the time he was done, spots floated in front of his eyes and nausea rocked his stomach.

“Damn it, stay down.” She laid her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t make me tie you to the bed.”

The shocking image of him, flat on his back, arms and legs tethered to the four posts of the bed, and her riding him made hot blood pump through his body straight to his cock. Surprisingly, that didn’t hurt at all.